Indigo Heir
by Ahnyo
Summary: Equius is sent to the Furthest Ring and stripped of everything that made him who he was. As he struggles to let go of his old values and past mistakes, he must learn to embrace his aspect and avoid becoming one with the villain his sacrifice was supposed to prevent.


The battlefield was strewn with bodies. A river of purple ran from the still twitching halves of the bisected Bard. The Page had slumped over, spent from his eruption of hope. His companions lay, battered and bruised, clinging to their consciousnesses. Even the Lord had collapsed, his body unscathed but his morale trounced. Though the fight was not yet over, the temporary stalemate had brought about an air of calm. It was quiet, aside from the huffing breaths of the heroes and Gamzee's strained gurgles. Caliborn wheezed dramatically. He was waiting for one of his opponents to make a move, too dispirited to strike first.

Dirk let out an audible groan as he pushed his sword into the ground, using it to help himself onto his knees. Caliborn lifted his head and watched as Dirk rose to his feet, leaving his sword protruding from the earth. Pink energy crackled weakly from his outstretched fingers as he limped toward the unfazed cherub. Caliborn sneered and took his time getting up, knowing he could take the Prince down with a single blow.

His face blanked at the sound of a faint rumble. At first he thought it was his own throbbing head, but it was growing steadily louder. It was coming from the distance. Then, they appeared on the horizon: horses, and not just any horses, but ones built from metal and machinery. The herd drew closer, their robotic whinnies rising above the thunderous beat of their hooves. Caliborn was dumbfounded. He flinched as the horses at the front of the pack raced by and careened out of the way just in time to avoid trampling him. He lost sight of Dirk in the seemingly endless stampede, which added to his unease. Caliborn stood on his toes, trying to peer over the charging beasts, but he had let down his guard from behind.

As a being with a fully organic brain, Caliborn's reaction to the stimulus was nothing short of predictable. Distraction, confusion, uncertainty: those were inherent flaws of lifeforms not augmented with the processing abilities of a computer. The kids, who were just beginning to gather themselves, were equally perplexed, but that information was irrelevant. What mattered was that Caliborn had left himself vulnerable, allowing the next part of the plan to be executed.

ARquiusprite materialized behind him with his arms spread wide. He dove at Caliborn, enveloping him in a muscular embrace and squeezing with the grip of a protein-guzzling boa constrictor. Caliborn's ribs crunched and he squirmed, his billiard ball eyes bulging out of their sockets. ARquiusprite was staunch in his position, and even though the sprite was drenched in sweat, Caliborn had no hope of slipping away.

ARquiusprite looked to Dirk for approval through his broken shades, giving him an equally broken smile. Finally, he had proven himself as something akin to a hero. Perhaps he had even redeemed himself from his prior shortcomings. He had seized the juvenile form of Lord English, giving Dirk the chance to use his soul-rending powers to wipe him from existence before he could mature and reach his full potential. That was the most heroic thing ARquiusprite could conceive of with his computerized brain.

Dirk did not share his sprite's pride. He wore his usual sullen expression as he approached, seeming to think of ARquiusprite's intervention as more of a convenience than a gallant deed. The energy engulfed his hands. Flares shot out and fizzled in the air, drawn to the magnetism of Caliborn's soul. Dirk hunched his back, extended his arms, and unleashed the brunt of his power. Tendrils of pink fire ensnared Caliborn, piercing his convulsing body. He did everything he could to resist their pull. Dirk responded by amplifying the blast. As the discharge expanded, it latched onto the bodies in its vicinity. The kids scrambled for cover, but ARquiusprite remained where he was. The universe couldn't afford for him to let go, he told himself.

The pain was unprecedented. It felt as though a hundred million volts of electricity were permeating his being, but that was like a mere pinch compared to the existential anguish he was put through. Under normal circumstances, death provided the conditions for a soul to exit its body, not unlike a key unlocking a door. Death was a peaceful release. When a person lay dying and the life ebbed from his body, his soul was free to detach itself at its own pace—or else his life was blotted out so fast, the soul was ejected instantaneously. But ARquiusprite was alive, or at least as alive as a sprite could be, and Dirk was not technically killing him. He was enacting a process that went against the laws of nature, forcing him through the cracks in the locked door of death.

Living beings, whether they were aware of it or not, had a natural resolve to continue living. They had firm grasps on their souls—hence why people did not drop dead for no reason. It was because of this that having one's soul removed was so agonizing, and felt so wrong. This power was not to be trifled with. In responsible hands, it should have been reserved only for foes incapable of being killed in any way. Dirk was using it for precisely that. ARquiusprite, unfortunately, just happened to come along for the ride.

He was not the only unintended victim. One of the horse robots had punted half of Gamzee's not-quite-corpse into the spell's proximity, and the pink rays had begun to leech off of him as well. It was hard to tell, considering that he only had half a face, but he looked relieved rather than horrified. Perhaps he was grateful that he was being freed from whatever clown bullshit was keeping him alive. But what about the second half of Gamzee's soul? Had it somehow merged with its counterpart, or was it still trapped in the other cut of his body? It was probably best not to think about it.

ARquiusprite was certainly not thinking about it. He was too preoccupied with his own suffering to care about the suffering of a stupid clown—er, _misguided_ _highb_ _100_ _d_ —who had made the troll part of him "suffer" in the past. Oh, how he wished he could be in that position instead, where he could at least choose to submit to his fate and find solace in his death. ARquiusprite's other component found the ordeal terrifying in an alien way. He was not yet acquainted with the corporeal concept of pain, least of all pain as deep and searing as this. The way his body worked in direct opposition to his mind indicated a critical hardware malfunction. It was almost too much for his digital mind to process, and it might have crashed if it didn't have a troll think pan for backup.

It was too late for the sprite to explode himself out of his misery. His souls had begun to leave the kernel, forfeiting his control over it. Indeed: not only did Dirk's power rend the intertwined souls from their vessel, but it also tore them from each other. ARquiusprite was no more; he had reverted to Equius Zahhak and Lil Hal, Dirk's former auto-responder. That was, if Lil Hal possessed what could be considered a soul on his own. Equius had no way of knowing the fate of his former counterpart. There were many things he didn't know—and would never know—now that he had been disconnected from Lil Hal's astounding intelligence. He was by no means a stupid troll, but his brain was primitive in comparison. His thoughts were slow and muddled and he felt empty without the constant calculations buzzing in his head. His physical and mental strength were both gone—and with his noble indigo blood only existing tangibly in and around his desecrated troll corpse, what did Equius have left to pride himself on?

His soul was hanging on by a thread. As Dirk had essentially reversed the prototyping of the sprite, the body Equius was leaving had returned to the form of a glowing red sphere and was unrecognizable as his own. The sight emphasized the finality of his fate. When his soul was fully consumed by the magic, the kernel remained, waiting to be prototyped anew. Caliborn's lifeless body fell over. Gamzee's writhing stopped. Three and a half souls churned in the electric pink web, trapped between life and death.

Dirk, still maintaining his poise, curled his fingers and brought his hands closer together. Equius was overcome by a crushing weight. It bore no physical pain, as he did not have a physical body, but it suffocated the fabric of his being. Equius only existed in the present. All the details of his identity and the traits and experiences that defined him were being suppressed. Soon, everything that made him Equius would be gone and he would cease to be. Dirk was trying to destroy their souls. The first part of his spell had drained him, however, and the sheer number and strength of the souls was too much for him to quash in his weakened state. It just wasn't possible. He abated, but made sure not to let the souls slip from his grasp.

Equius's memories came rushing back, sending him into a panic. His life flashed before his eyes: growing up with Aurthour, breaking innumerable bows, punching robots to calm himself down, spending time with his moirail, playing Sgrub, dying at the hands of Gamzee, being reborn as a sprite, fusing with Lil Hal. Being deprived of these critical memories for only a moment had a deeply alienating effect on him. It was like he was viewing the entire life of another person, all condensed into several seconds. Realizing that the person was him did not give Equius any relief, seeing as he had become so estranged from what he used to be.

He could sense the presence of the souls around him. He couldn't hear their thoughts, but he could tell they were trying to escape from the entrapment. Whenever they bumped into each other, Equius caught a glimpse of their emotions. Fear. Anger. Intensified versions of those feelings. They were stronger than any of Equius's own emotions, other than his urge to surrender. It might have even been Equius's conflicting resolve that was holding them back.

Still, Dirk was running out of time. The Prince glanced over his shoulder. Lying in the dirt was a familiar ventriloquist dummy, one he had known all his life as "Lil Cal". He had no idea how it had gotten there, and didn't really care to find out. He mulled over his options for a moment, and then moved forward, bringing the souls with him. Dirk guided the souls into the puppet. The souls stopped struggling. They were contained.

Equius relaxed. His new vessel felt soft, like a body. It was not a body at all, though. Equius could not move, nor could he feel. He could only gaze out of Lil Cal's unblinking blue eyes. The kids had gathered around the puppet, seemingly discussing what to do next. Equius couldn't hear what they were saying very well, but it didn't matter. Now that his suffering had ended, he could take in what had happened. They had succeeded. Caliborn's soul might not have been destroyed, but there was certainly not a lot he could do in this state. Equius didn't mind his sacrifice. He had done the right thing.

Space was limited inside the puppet, so the souls were stuck in close proximity to each other. In addition to reading the others' feelings when their souls overlapped, Equius also picked up fragments of their thoughts. It was not at all like when he was combined with Lil Hal, where their minds complemented each other and thought in unison. It was background noise; mumbled bits of internal conversation he could barely make out. Profanity. Approximations. _HON_ _K_ _ing_ _._ It was subtle enough not to bother Equius too much.

The kids had turned to Roxy, who nodded in acceptance. She came closer, holding her hands to her head. Equius began to feel faint. It was different from when Dirk had attempted to destroy his soul; his entire being felt equal parts hazy, even his vessel. His vision blurred until he could no longer see Roxy and her friends. When Equius came to, his sight was still gone. He was submerged in darkness—no, not even. He was submerged in _nothing_. Sealing Caliborn's soul away had not been enough. Roxy had banished Lil Cal, and all the souls within it, to the Furthest Ring.


End file.
